


Knocking Boots with Mister...?

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: Random SPN Porn Collection [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Intersex Castiel, M/M, Mpreg, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: It was a good day at the beach when Dean first sees...him.They keep running into each other, and Dean keeps almost knocking him down. But who is he? And will Dean ever survive his job in sales and marketing?And can Dean ever be honest about... his job?





	Knocking Boots with Mister...?

**Author's Note:**

> Is unedited

By all accounts, it had been a good day.

The sun was shining, and the boardwalk was filled with many happy people going about their business. The outdoor market set up in view of the water was lined with colourful tents, tables filled with even more colourful wares. Children buried their father in the sand. A group of college aged kids played beach volleyball. An adorable elderly couple sat on a bench sharing ice cream. And, straddling the cement divide between the walk and the sand, was… _him._

He’d captured his attention the moment he came into Dean’s eye line. Long legs, clad in lightly distressed dark wash jeans and gently hugging thick, muscular thighs. A grey t-shirt that pulled tight over a broad chest and muscular arms every time he lifted his professional looking camera to take pictures of the scenery. His tanned skin glowed as he lifted his face to the midday sun and breathed in the salty sea air before standing, running a hand through his already messy hair. A tiny grin tugged at Dean’s mouth when the man smiled at a couple of rambunctious seven-ish aged boys that ran past him, nearly running straight _into_ him. Energetic little no-neck monsters

Dean glanced around, taking in the market stalls, the ice cream stand, the hippie looking guy sitting with the guitar. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he pushed off the side of the building he’d been leaning on and headed towards the parking lot. That it also happened to take him in the direction of the new object of his attention was totally just a coincidence.

That it allowed him the opportunity to find out the man had the clearest blue eyes Dean’s ever seen on anyone in real life… that was just the cherry filling in a perfectly baked pie.

* * *

Dean ducked into a quaint little café. The local kind of place that’s independently owned and decorated with artwork and trinkets that reflect something the town is known for. He’d just noticed the dorky looking moose plushie in a Hawaiian shirt on a surf board when he collided with something solid. Or, at least, solidly built.

His arms wound around the narrow waist of the person – a man – he’d run into, his momentum causing hem to spin so the other man’s back was now to the door instead.

“Wh-whoops.” Dean offered an embarrassed grin and his eyes widened, gasping in a lungful of air. His face heated and his shoulders bunched slightly in surprise as he found himself looking directly into those same clear blue eyes he’d seen only a few days earlier at the beach. They stared back at him with an intensity that kept him pinned in place. “S-sorry.”

“No, it was my fault.” Jesus. His gravelly voice vibrated in both their chests. “I wasn’t paying attention t where I was going.” The man pulled away, breaking eye contact, allowing Dean to remember how to breathe again. He bent down to retrieve a cellphone he’d obviously dropped when Dean had run into him.

“Let me make it up to you anyway,” Dean offered as he checked if the phone had escaped any damage to the screen. Smart phones were kind of a pain that way. At least, in Dean’s opinion. “I could, maybe, buy you lunch some time. Or maybe dinner?”

The man smiled at him. “On any other day, I would gladly take you up on your offer.” He sighed regrettably. “Unfortunately I am busier than normal lately. Maybe another time.” He exited the café.

Dean watched him leave. As if bidden by an unseen force, he shook his head and ran out after him. “I don’t even know your name,” he called after the stranger as he walked down the street.

“Guess you’ll just have to almost knock me down again,” the man called back playfully without looking back.

“I thought that was our fault,” Dean said with a grin he was sure his brother would’ve called dopey had he seen it. Bitch. He turned, giddiness coursing through him, and fricking _swaggered_ in the opposite direction of his mysterious angel in blue jeans, whistling something that sounded a lot like a song by Train.

* * *

The next time it really was the other guy’s fault.

Dean had been standing completely still, and completely bored out of his mind at the company fundraiser – why on Earth had he ever thought working as the freaking director of sales and marketing at Sandover & Iron Inc. would be a remotely good idea again? Oh right, he had a job to do and he was damn good at it.

He’d been scanning the crowd of Sandover employees, plus ones, catering personnel, etc, and sipping champagne when Mister Mysterious with the Electric Blue Eyes had fallen for him – or into him. His champagne sloshed out of the glass and onto his hand and the edge of his sleeve. At least it wasn’t all over them and mother was broken.

“O-oh! I’m so sorry.” Blue Eyes snagged a napkin rom a nearby table and helped him clean up the mess.

“No harm done. I don’t even really like this shirt.” Dean flashed one of his trademarked charming smiles, his heartbeat speeding up. “But I think now it’s _you_ who owes _me_.”

The man smirked. “And what would you say is adequate payment, Mister…?”

“Oh, no. I asked you first, Mister…?”

He huffed, eyes going squinty. “I never ‘give it up’ on the first date.”

“So this is a date?”

“If it is, I don’t think it’s going very well.” He turned away, facing the dance floor. Stiff necked couples with fake smiles and formal wear glided haughtily around the floor, as if this was a ballroom in Stepford. The somewhat non-cheesy live music was better suited to a dimly lit lounge than an upper-class social gathering meant to help save narwhals or whatever, but it wasn’t bad.

“And why is that?”

“You haven’t been worshipping me.”

Dean looked at him, noticing the barely concealed cheeky expression on his handsome features. He chuckled and looked around. “Well, we’ll have to rectify that.” He held out one had towards his ‘date’ and gestured to the dance floor with the other. “Shall we, Dear?”

“Aww, Honey. I thought you’d never ask me.” His long, slender fingers slipped into the proffered hand. Dean pictured those fingers sliding on the skin of his back, his chest… he swallowed and took a breath to compose himself and led his partner onto the floor. Blue Eyes rubbed the side of his head, blushing, and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I said my God, you have a nice butt.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush. Again. He pulled the man into his arms. “Sweetheart, are you objectifying me?”

He watched the man become flustered. “N-no. No, not at all. I mean, I use couldn’t help but notice y-your butt, and your ass– I mean cock– _I mean…!”_

Dean threw his head bad and laughed. The man was absolutely adorable when he was blushing, Dean decided. And awkward, no matter how cheeky or playful he had proven so far. “Maybe you’ll get the chance to admire both later.” He winked when he man was able to look him in the eye again.

Blue Eyes huffed out a laugh. “So _you_ give it up on a first date? Mister…?”

“Hah. You know, _you_ are not as slick as I first thought you were… Mister…?”

He gave Dean a look that said he wasn’t that gullible. They swayed gently to the music that wasn’t completely horrible, bodies gently pressed together. Halfway through the second song, the man spotted someone over Dean’s shoulder that he really needed to speak to and politely excused himself. No matter. This may be a fundraiser, but that didn’t mean Dean didn’t have work to do. Too bad. He was really beginning to want to get to know Mister Blue Eyes with the Sex Hair better.

* * *

His cart was full of all the rabbit food his brother insisted were essential to survival, as well as the ‘warrior food’ he preferred – meaning red meat – and beer. There was one more thing he needed before he could go… There it was: the last pie in the bakery section. A beautiful looking blueberry pie with a perfectly golden top crust. Now he could finally escape this grocery store and its wine-hungry soccer moms who obviously wanted more than wine – on any other day he’d be happy to oblige them with a little banter – and then he could… _hey._

A hand had reached out and snagged the last pie right out from under his nose!

“Hey. That was– oh.”

“Oh, yourself. Did you see something you wanted?”

“I was just about to grab that pie,” Dean said, indicating the pastry in Mister Blue Eyes hand. “I’ve been looking forward to sinking my teeth into something sweet all day,” he continued, eyes definitely _not_ on the pie. Damn, he could already feel those thick thighs clamping around his waist.

“Try a doughnut.” The man turned and walked away, glancing back with a challenge in his eyes.

“Oh hell no.” He hurried after the man. “I ain’t letting you get away from me. The guy carrying you either.”

The man let out a startled laugh. “Then I guess you’ll just have to come home with us,” he called over his shoulder.

Okay. Maybe he _wasn’t_ as awkward as Dean had thought.

* * *

Oh, he was definitely as awkward as Dean had thought.

After being suave enough to insinuate getting his mouth around something sweet, and suggesting Dean might learn his name while he’s at it. The man had given him his address – written on an old receipt.

He had shyly let him in three hours later. He’d then proceeded to knock over a coat rack, a lamp, and a container of unpopped popcorn kernels. All in the first ten minutes.

He stammered and blushed when Dean said something flirtatious, but crowded Dean’s personal space and maintained eye contact much longer than socially acceptable – though Dean didn’t really mind any of it. He liked the feeling of sharing his personal space with the guy and he stared right back.

The gaze of those blue eyes was just as intense as it had been in the café. And they lit up when he talked about the importance of bees and the animal rescue centre he opened with his brother. (“We save animals that other people abuse and abandon. Rehabilitate them so they can safely, and happily be re-homed with families that will love them. People that will _care._ ”) And as much as he blushed when Dean said anything suggestive, he didn’t seem to be picking up on any serious clues.

After sharing some of the stolen pie (“I didn’t _steal_ it. I bought it.”) they settled in for some Netflix (the two account names being Commander and Trickster – he chose Commander). It was some show about two brothers fighting supernatural bad guys and an angel that becomes part of their family, Dean wasn’t really sure. It sounded like a book series his brother liked. It was the episode where the older brother mete the angel and sparks were literally flying… on screen and off.

Dean was wrapped around the man’s body. The way their lips were locked, it probably looked like they were trying to devour each other. He loved how the man responded to his touch. His skin under his palms. The feel of his denim clad cock as they rutted against one another.

He pulled back to see those blue eyes electric and blown wide with arousal. “My name’s Dean w-“ he cleared his throat. “What’s yours?”

The man looked up at him, breathing uneven. “K- j-“ He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “I’m Steve. Klein.” Steve pulled him in for another quick kiss. “Hmm… it seems you _do_ give it up on the first date, Mister Dean…?”

Dean snorted. “Second date. Remember?” Steve chuckled. “And it’s Smith. Dean Smith.”

“Of course, Mister Smith.” They continued to make out like horny teenagers until Dean tried to take it a little bit further and he started to panic.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. Easy. It’s okay, man.” Dean held his face in his hands, brushing his cheek with a thumb. “I don’t generally give it up on a second date either… unless I don’t plan on seeing them again. And, honestly, I already know I want more than a quick roll in the hay with you.”

“I-I…” Steve looked at him with that intense gaze of his. “I want that too.”

* * *

Their first official, pre-scheduled, pre-planned, date was, cliché as it sounds, dinner and a movie. The dinner was at a great diner where they both wolfed down bacon cheeseburgers before enjoying the signature apple pie. And the movie was a screening of Slaughterhouse-Five. Afterwards, they drove to an out of the way viewpoint and made out in the backseat of Dean’s 1967 Chevy Impala. He kept it in pristine condition, the black paint gleaming. He didn’t take her out much anymore, but he wasn’t going to take the company car – a damned silver _Prius_ \- on _this_ date.

The following date was doing volunteer work with dogs at Steve and his half-brother’s ( _Loki_ Milton) animal rescue centre. Dean sneezed when a littler of curious kittens decided his jeans were perfect for climbing, but he actually ended up having fun.

They did the typical couple things: toured museums and shopping and mini-golf (Dean totally won). They even went to a carnival where he won Steve a giant stuffed bee.

They did non-traditional couple things too. Turned out Steve was beyond awesome at Call of Duty; Dean managed to sneak a kiss in the middle of laser tag; they even went BASE jumping and Dean got to show off his driving skills at the race track.

* * *

“You guys have been dating for, what, five months now?”

Dean was having lunch with Sam Wesson, one of the IT guys he’d befriended not long after the younger man had started working for Sandover.

“Yeah, I know, alright?” He drank the crappy green protein shake he usually had at work, making a face.

“Why do you insist on drinking those everyday?”

“It’s supposed to be healthy.”

“I don’t think anyone here would actually care if you had a burger for lunch.”

“Zachariah would and you know it,” Dean stated, referring to their boss. The man had a giant stick shoved so far up his ass.

“So where are you going for your five month anniversary?” He smirked in lieu of a response.

“Would you stop saying it like that, Bitch?”

“Well it’s the truth, Jerk.” Dean grumbled. “What was that?”

“I said it’s _six_ months.”

“… no, I’m pretty sure it’s been five.”

“Since the first _official_ date, it’s been five. It’s been six since we first saw each other that day on the beach.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And you call _me_ a girl.”

“Cause you are, Samantha.”

Sam took a huge bite of his veggie wrap and ignored the man sitting across from him.

* * *

“Hard to believe it’s been six months, isn’t it?”

Steve frowned, head tilting to the side. “It’s been _five_ months.”

“But it’s been six since we met.”

“Oh, yes. At the café.”

It was Dean’s turn to frown. “At the beach.”

“What? No, we met at a café.”

“No. We met at the beach.”

“I distinctly remember you almost knocking me down in a café.”

“And _I_ distinctly remember catching a glimpse of those beautiful eyes at the beach.” He could just make out the blush on Steve’s skin in the deep blue light as they stood in front of one of the large tanks at the aquarium. Dean smirked. “See, I _knew_ you remembered that.” He moved in until their chests were nearly touching.

“Yes. However, we didn’t actually meet until the café.”

“It was even better. It was the first time I ever laid eyes on you.” Steve smiled softly before leaning in to give him a small but sweet kiss.

They finished touring the aquarium, Dean watching the light rom the tanks playing off his boyfriend’s face, eyes full of boyish wonder.

* * *

Steve fell back on the bed, pulling Dean on top of him. Their clothing was rapidly littering the floor around the room. Dean could feel him shiver beneath him as he trailed his lips down the man’s well shaped abdomen, pausing at the hem of his boxers.

“Dean? Dean, wait.”

He lifted up on his arms to look at his boyfriend curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just… I feel I need to tell you something important.” Steve looked carefully calm about it, but Dean could tell he was nervous.

“Hey, what is it?” He laid on his side next to Steve, pulling him close.

“I’m… I mean I…” Steve shook his head and exhaled heavily, hand on Dean’s chest. “I just… I’m bi-Gen.”

Bi-Gen. Bi-Gendered. Somewhere between male and female, and often treated as genetic mistakes. It was still common place to hear of men pressuring Bi-Gens into engaging in vaginal sex simply because they were ‘built for it’.

“I don’t- I mean, I’m not completely sure I’m ready for-“ Dean pressed his fingers to Steve’s lips.

“I’ll never _expect_ anything from you that you’re not ready to give.”

He gave Dean a tiny smile. “That’s why I trust you so much.”

What little remained of their clothing was tossed aside. Hands slid against skin, exploring, mapping each other out. Dean took his time. Worshipping his boyfriend’s hips… his thighs… the tan that reached _everywhere_. He slowly pulled him apart, piece by piece, until Steve was putty in his hands. He bit his lip, a sharp intake of air when Dean’s fingers first breached the tight ring of his ass. Dean trailed down his abdomen once more, licking a circle around his navel before following the dark trail of hair further down…

 _“A-ah!”_ Steve arched his back when Dean’s hot, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his hard cock. He groaned, gripping his own hair when Dean’s fingers inside him massaged against his prostate.

With his free hand, Dean stroked his shaft, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. He bobbed his head, taking in the smooth cock further into his mouth until it almost reached the back of his throat. He pulled off with an audible ‘pop’, stroking in time with the massaging movement of his other hand. He slid his tongue down the underside of Steve’s shaft, down along the bare patch of skin where a man’s scrotum would be. Down… just teasing the edge of his hot, wet cunt. He changed course. Back up. He sucked Steve’s cock back into his mouth.

Steve came with a shout. Orgasm wracking through his body. His cum, a pearly clear fluid, spilled into Dean’s mouth, a little escaping past his lips and down his chin.

“Oh my god…” He panted, pulling his stiff fingers from his hair. “I…”

“You’re welcome,” Dean grinned, wiping the side of his mouth.

Steve sighed and chuckled. “You’re kind of a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” He flopped onto his back next to Steve.

“Hmph.” Steve rolled to his side, hand splayed on Dean’s chest. “Well, I think I’d like to return the favour.” He winked and rolled on top of Dean, giving him a deep, dirty kiss. “I… I want you.”

“I’m right here,” Dean breathed. “You can have me.”

Steve bit his lip, brown furrowed a little. “I mean… I _really_ want you…” He tilted his head to the side in the same way Dean didn’t even pretend he didn’t find adorable. He rocked his hips, grinding down against Dean’s hard cock. The head sliding against his wet cunt.

“Baby,” Dean grabbed his hips, holding him still. “I don’t- we don’t _have_ to…”

He pressed in another kiss, silencing Dean. “I know.” He pushed himself up to a seated position. “But I think… I _know_ I want it. I… _need_ this. And I want it with _you_ , Dean.”

Dean stroked his thumbs on the man’s hips, studying his face, starting into those intense clear blue eyes he loved so much. “Alright, Sweetheart.” Steve gave him that bright, sunny smile that he always enjoyed seeing because it was so earnest and so rare.

It was Dean’s turn to groan as his boyfriend’s tight, slick cunt slid onto his cock. He held onto his hips, one of Steve’s hands grasped onto his wrist, the other on his chest for balance as he slowly began to ride him. “Mmh… oh, fuck, Dean.” He ground his hips down. “Fuck, I forgot how good this could feel.”

Dean rolled them over. Steve’s arms wound around him as he thrust, face tucked into his neck… “Baby, I…” He groaned. “I gonna-“

“Do it, Dean. Please.” He clung to him, panting. “Come.”

 _“Fuck._ I-I…” He thrust harder, quicker. His muscles tensed, balls drawing up, and he came.

Dean rolled heavily onto his back, breathing hard. They lay next to each other, listening to one another breathe.

“That… that was…”

“Hmm…” Steve chuckled. “I know.”

“I didn’t… I mean, you’re not, like, hurt or anything?”

He huffed. “I’ll be sore in the morning, but it’ll be a good sore.” He rolled over until his head was tucked under Dean’s chin.

Dean sighed contently. “That’s the best kind.”

* * *

“Say what?” Dean sighed and gave Sam a flat look in response to the taller man’s incredulous expression. “What… what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do’?” Dean turned his chair enough to look out the window.

“… are you going to, I don’t know, get… married?”

“What? No.” Dean frowned. He picked up a pyramid shaped paperweight from his desk and fiddled with it. Should he? Is that what Steve wanted, given the situation? _Could_ he? This was a… different… situation. It was all happening so quickly. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Dean stretched and reached out to swat the alarm clock. He sighed and lay there for a minute. Another day, another dollar. He turned his head to look at the man next to him. Steve was so beautiful. Not in a feminine way. Even with his rapidly expanding stomach. He was just… he just was.

Steve shifted in is sleep, his rounded belly coming into better view. Dean rolled over and placed a hand on it. A tiny smile pulled at his mouth as he felt the movements of his child underneath his palm. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the taut skin. Two more months. Two more months and they’d be responsible for the well being of a tiny, helpless little being created out of the two of them combined. It was hard to wrap his head around.

He’d never regret this. No matter what anyone thought. He’d never regret this, right here.

* * *

They were at the animal rescue shelter when it happened.

Dean had managed to talk Sam into accompanying him and, from the moment that the big moose met Loki, the two had hit it off. The two were laughing as they bathed a German shepherd, getting more soap on themselves than the dog. It was the last dog that needed it and they would soon be leaving for dinner.

Dean was playing with a skittish little two-year-old Yorkie that had started to finally warm up to him when Steve called him over. His boyfriend had been particularly uncomfortable all day, his huge pregnant belly putting strain on his back, but he’d insisted on coming here all the same.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” Dean asked, Rini – the Yorkie – held in one hand against his chest.

Steve was breathing evenly. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ve been reading and I think I might be in labour.”

_“What!?”_

“Dean, calm down. It’s not urgent, I just thought you should know just in case.” Sam and Loki had looked up at his shout.

“In case of what?”

“In case my contractions get stronge-“ He took a sharp intake of breath, rubbing his back.

“What? What was that?”

“Probably just a contraction.”

 _“What?_ Sammy! It’s time! Let’s go!”

“What? _Dean._ Would you calm down? It’s not urgent yet. We just have to time them. Besides, it could just be more Braxton Hicks contractions. Now, I hope you’re not going to freak out like you did the first three times it was a false alarm.”

“What’s going on?” Loki asked as he approached. Sam was putting the now clean German shepherd back into it’s kennel.

“He’s in labour.”

“I _might_ be. We don’t know for sure yet.” Steve interjected.

“Baby Bro,” Loki sighed. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“On and off since lunch. But it’s fine. It’s probably just another false alarm.” He sighed. “You know how foolish I felt the last how many times it ended up being a false alarm.”

“Uh huh, now when was the last time you felt a contraction?”

“Just a little while ago.” Steve frowned as his brother pulled out his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Phoning your doctor. Dean, start timing.”

“Loki, you don’t have to-“ He was ignored.

An hour later they were pulling into the hospital parking lot, Dean coaching his boyfriend’s breathing as the contractions were now coming less than five minutes apart.

Little Jack Klein came into the world at 7:06 PM.

* * *

Dean smiled as he leaned down to kiss his son’s head. They’d just finished breakfast and he was about to head out to work. Seven-month-old Jack was finally able to hold himself up on his legs when they held him. He bounced up and down on Steve’s leg, laughing. Dean wished he could spend more time at home with his little family, but an important project at work was coming to a crucial point.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised and kissed his boyfriend.

“I know you will. And I have something to tell you when you do. Meanwhile, me and Jack will take a nice little stroll along the boardwalk. It’s a nice day for it.” Steve turned to speak to the baby. “Won’t we? Yes we will.”

Dean smiled at the two and headed out the door. He couldn’t wait for this project to be over.

* * *

His blood ran cold when Sam told him.

How could this be happening. They were so careful. He’d covered his tracks and left nothing to chance. They were _so close_.

“I got eyes on the North exterior… I count two guards, heavily armed.” Benny’s voice came from beside him.

 _“There’s three on the East side wall.”_ Ash’s voice sounded in his earwig.

 _“Two more on the West entrance.”_ Sam’s voice chimed in.

“I got a vehicle coming up the driveway,” Dean said, looking through his binoculars. “… I got a driver, probably armed… I see Adler… they’re heading into the house.”

 _“Local PD is advised and I got EHS on standby.”_ Charlie’s voice came in.

 _“I know what’s at stake here, but I need all of you idjits to keep your heads on and stick to the plan.”_ Bobby’s gruff voice added. _“Do I make myself clear?”_ Affirmatives came in through the comms. _“Winchester. Do you copy? … **Dean**.”_

“Yeah, yeah. Copy that.”

_“Good. Now, on my mark. We go in three… two… one… **go, go, go**.”_

Dean held his sidearm at the ready and moved in, feeling Benny fall into step behind him. They cleared the entrance before ducking for cover as bullets flew over their heads.

The next ten minutes were intense and bloody.

All of a sudden Dean was standing on one side of a room with Benny, Sam, and Ash at his back. On the other side of the room were four armed goons and an equally armed Zachariah Adler standing over a kneeling Steve with a crying Jack shielded in his arms. Dean’s own firearm was aimed at Zachariah’s head.

“If you’d have just handed over the files this could have all turned out differently, Smith,” Adler said in his typical smarmy tone. “Now, I’m afraid you’ve left me with no alternative.”

They were outnumbered. Both Adler and two of the goons had guns trained on his family. Even if they each chose a target, there was no guarantee the fifth wouldn’t get in a lucky shot. They couldn’t… _he_ couldn’t…

“Dean…” Steve said his name. “It’ll be okay.”

He was so strong. So brave. So trusting. So…

There was movement behind one of the goons. Dean swept his eyes over all of them, spying…

_Loki?_

What…? _Why does he have a gun??_

“Say goodbye, Dean.”

His heart raced and everything around him slowed down. He aimed right between Adler’s eyes and fired.

Shots sounded all around him. He watched as his bullet hit its mark. Watched Adler fall with that smug look frozen on his face.

_“Dean!”_

He was vaguely aware of a sharp pain in his chest as he ran forward. Probably a bullet to the vest. The goons all dropped alongside their boss. But he didn’t care about them. He only cared about…

“Oh, god, are you alright?” He dropped to his knees in front of his boyfriend and child, sidearm falling to the carpeted floor. He checked them both over, taking Jack into one of his arms when the boy reached for him, still crying.

“Dean.” One of his boyfriend’s arms wound around him as he pulled both of them into his.

“I am so sorry. I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”

“It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s over now.”

“No, it’s not. I, damn it. Steve, I’ve been lying to you.” He took a deep breath and looked into the electric blue eyes he’d long since fallen in love with. “I’m FBI. I’ve been undercover for over two years. My name is Dean Winchester.”

Everyone was silent except for the whimpers still coming from his son. Steve was silent. He looked into his eyes, willing him to react. To do… anything.

“Please… say something.”

The man suddenly broke. At first, Dean thought he was crying. It became apparent that he was… _laughing?_

“Wh- I don’t…”

“I- I’m sorry. Dean, I-“ He snorted. “I’m undercover NCIS. My name is Castiel Novak. Loki…” They both glanced over at the man who, Dean finally noticed, was wearing a bulletproof vest like the rest of them with the letters ‘NCIS’ stuck on the front. “Gabriel Shurley… he’s my partner.”

Someone behind him cleared his throat. “I, uh, I’m Sam Winchester. Dean’s brother… just FYI.”

Loki… _Gabriel_ … smirked. “I gotta say, Samsquach. The whole badass secret agent man thing really does it for me.” He winked. Dean was pretty sure his brother was blushing. He turned back to Ste- _Castiel_ … Jesus. This was going to take some getting used to.

“Dean… I have something to tell you.”

Dean’s chest tightened. St- _Cas_ , looked nervous. He should’ve known. Everything was going well. Maybe _too_ well. His grip on Jack tightened a little. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d still get to be in his son’s life.

“You’re not going to tell me you’re married, right?”

 _Cas_ chuckled. “No. Not married.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Okay. Glad for that.”

“Pregnant.”

“Huh?”

“I’m pregnant. We’re having another baby.”

“Looks like you can do more that knock him down.” Sam’s amused voice interrupted.

“Shut up, Bitch,” he shot over his shoulder. Everyone laughed at their banter. He grinned and pulled his boyfriend in closer. Ignoring the ‘Jerk’ Sam shot back. “Marry me? Mister Novak?”

“I think I will… Mister Winchester.”

He kissed his fiancé.

… and he could’ve sworn he heard a grumbled _’Idjits’_ in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Got this idea watching NCIS: Los Angeles one day, and it wouldn’t let me go.
> 
> I might ( _might_ ) write this from each of their perspectives where you see what’s really going on in their jobs. _If_ I ever get the time to get around to it.
> 
> It’s on the list.


End file.
